


Talking To The Moon

by PrincessMisery86



Series: Her First & Their Last (Sam Wilson x OFC) [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Angst, Captain America the Winter Soldier - Freeform, F/M, Falcon Angst, Falcon Fluff, Fluff, Implied Smut, Mild Mention Of Suicidal Thoughts, Mutual Pining, Sad Sam, Sadness, Sam Wilson Angst, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sam Wilson is a Saint, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Unwanted Pregnancy, bad language, canon type violence, catws, faked pregnancy, falcon - Freeform, sam wilson fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23038117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMisery86/pseuds/PrincessMisery86
Summary: After helping Cap take down S.H.I.E.L.D Sam returns home with plans to make good on his promises to Skylar. But plans never go the way they are supposed to and with his new found fame comes consequences of previous actions. His new life as Falcon will mean nothing if he can’t share it with the one person he wants by his side. Will he finally be able to start the life he should have been living for the last sixteen years with Skylar? Or are there some consequences not even the Avengers can put right?Notes: Series complete. Sequel to “A Reason To Come Home” but can be read as a standalone. Set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. For this to work Sam doesn’t go looking for Bucky at the end.Characters: Sam Wilson, OFC, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Jarvis, Other OC’s.Pairing: Sam Wilson x OFC(s).A/N: I’m super fucking proud of this one. I really think it’s my best work so far. I dig it. I really like it. No, that’s wrong, I love it.
Relationships: Sam Wilson x OFC, Sam Wilson x Original Female Character, Sam Wilson/OFC, Sam Wilson/Original Female Character
Series: Her First & Their Last (Sam Wilson x OFC) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655800
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

  


##  **_T_****_alking To The Moon_ **

** _February 2001_ **

The base camp in the desert, hundreds of miles from any form of civilisation, was silent. Sam and the moon were the only ones awake. The other five men, including Riley, that made up the small unit were still sleeping. Sam was just as tired, could have done with an extra hour, but he had a promise to keep.

Sam could find the good in any situation. Riley regularly joked it was his super power. The circumstance didn’t matter, Sam would always find something positive to focus on, even something beautiful in this endless desert: The velvety night sky, the shimmering stars–brighter in a wilderness devoid of unnatural light to diminish their glow–and finally, the flawlessly rounded moon. It was so big he felt like he could reach out and pluck from the sky. Sam took the opportunity to appreciate the view as he walked away from the tents and hoisted himself up onto the back of the truck.

The metal bed of the pick-up truck was cold under him, and the jacket he used wasn’t much of a pillow, but he didn’t care. He’d been looking forward to this moment for days now. The green light from the satellite phone was harsh on his eyes, but he dialled the number, knew it by heart, and pressed the chunky black phone to his ear.

Skylar answered after the fifth ring with a happy sigh, “Hey, Mr. Wilson.” 

His grin grew of its own accord, and he replied with the same sentiment, “Hey, baby girl.”

Skylar had been worried about both Sam and her brother when they joined the Air Force. Her Father had died in service of his country, and she feared the same fate for them. Anxious and stressed, she made Sam vow that he’d call as often as he could, but when he did, they both had to be outside, looking towards the sky. Talking to the moon, or faded stars, dependent on the time differences. If they were looking at the same sky it wouldn’t seem like they were galaxies apart.

Sam had thought it was a little quirky when she’d initially made him promise, but during the first call, he felt like he was home, that Skylar was just on the other side of the moon and not thousands of miles away. The feeling became almost addictive, and he slowly became dependent on their calls.

The time didn’t matter, she always answered and never scolded him for waking her. She needed to hear his voice just as much as he needed hers.

The way her breath puffed, he knew she was hurriedly walking to get outside. The background noise disappeared shortly before she spoke. “Oh, wow,” said Skylar awestruck, “it’s huge tonight.” 

“Oh, baby, you know it’s huge every night.”

She chuckled, “And it left me just as breathless.”

Sam laughed loudly, and though he was far enough away from the tents, he paused to assess if the noise had stirred anyone in the camp. The coast was clear. He sighed, relieved he wouldn’t be interrupted and have to cut the call short. 

“Wait,” she said, sounding serious, “are you sayin’ you’re huge every night when you’re surrounded by men? Do you have something to tell me, Mr. Wilson?” Sam snickered, but before he could counter her jesting she continued, “No judgement. I’m here for you.” 

He loved their banter. After prom, he’d been worried she’d be shy and reserved around him. But she’d been the opposite, countered every one of his innuendos with her own, teased him as much as he teased her. 

“If anyone can attest to my heterosexuality, it’s you!”

The pitch of her voice rose significantly, “Well,” she drawled, then laughed. “Things change, I get it. Late nights, adrenaline pumping through your veins after a battle, the moon shining bright and beautiful. But any man would be lucky to have you.” 

“Damn straight,” concluded Sam laughing. 

“No pun intended.” 

“You’re on a roll tonight. You been drinking whiskey again?” 

She sucked in an offended gasp, “That was a mistake, and you promised we’d never speak of it again.”

Sam stifled a bark of laughter. Last Christmas, when they’d both been home for the holidays, they spent a night drinking whiskey with Riley, swapping stories and catching up. When they’d all retired to bed for the night, Skylar had accidentally sent him a series of naughty texts that ended with a very provocative picture of herself. It was clear from the contents the messages had been intended for her boyfriend, Mike. 

Skylar hadn’t realized until the next morning when Sam had pulled her aside and shown her the photo. Her cheeks had gone so red, and she’d literally thrown herself at him to unsuccessfully try to wrestle the phone from him. He told her he’d deleted the picture but he hadn’t, he kept it for those late nights she’d mentioned. He had to cut off a groan as the image came to the forefront of his mind. 

“How’s my favorite prom date, anyway?”

“I’m good,” replied Sam, and he couldn’t keep the grin from his lips. “How’s _my _favorite prom date?”

“Fine, I got that interview with the NFL.”

Sam felt a swell of pride and he told her as much. The conversation continued, though Skylar provided most of the information, as protocol prohibited Sam sharing confidential details. He didn’t mind, he liked to hear about her life. 

The desert around him faded, staring up at the night sky and listening to her talk, he was transported to his old beat-up blue Corvette. He could envision driving the streets of his home town with Skylar beside him, telling him all about the presentation she had prepared for her interview to be the public relations manager at the NFL. 

They laughed, flirted, and spoke seriously about how he was feeling, how the things he had seen affected him. He’d seen and done some pretty terrible shit, but she always seemed to know what to say to help him make some sense of it all. 

The moon made way for the sun, and as it crept over the horizon, Sam reluctantly told her he had to go. 

“We’ll talk to the moon again, soon,” said Skylar, sounding hopeful. 

“Betcha ass we will.”

“There you go again, talkin’ about ass,” she jested, and he heard her eye roll, “Seriously, Sam, this is a safe place.” She giggled at her own joke. “You can trust me with your secrets.” 

“Baby girl, you’re my only secret,” he smirked cockily, “and I’d be happy to remind you _exactly _what the secret is.”

Skylar chuckled, and he imagined her biting her lip before she replied, “Bye, Sam. Stay safe.” 

“Always.”

The call ended but he remained watching the sky fade from black into light blues and orange. He always found it difficult to wipe the smile from his face after talking to her. Though Riley knew his best friend and sister spoke to one another, that’s all he knew. Sam didn’t want to give him reason to believe it was anything other than friendly. 

He heard boots crunch the hardened gravel and sat up to see Riley striding toward him with two steaming mugs of coffee. Well, the piss flavored water that passed for coffee there.

“What secrets you keepin’, brother?” Riley asked hoisting himself up to sit beside Sam. 

Sam’s head shook from side to side while he tried to laugh off the accusation, “Secrets?” 

“You’re not as quiet as you think, Romeo.” Riley shoved his shoulder into Sam’s, and Sam scowled at him for almost making him spill his drink but didn’t otherwise respond. 

They sipped their coffees looking out toward the sunrise. A quiet moment of contemplation before the real work of the day started. 

“So, how’s my sister?” asked Riley. 

Sam spluttered around the lip of his coffee mug, dribbling coffee down his chin and on to his pants.

Riley snickered but continued, “She get that interview?” 

“I, um…” he stuttered wiping himself down. “Interview? What?” Sam coughed to clear his throat and give himself time to think. He faked confusion, though he was _partly _confused; how much had Riley heard? How much did he know? 

“Relax, dude,” Riley advised, smirking comically. “Like I said, you’re not as quiet as you think you are, and Sky is about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.” 

Sam laughed, huffed out a relieved breath and gave in. “How long’ve you known?” 

“Figured something had happened a couple days after her prom. But then I overheard her talking to Sara on the phone.”

“Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” Sam shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. He was sorry for keeping the secret but not sorry for the act. “That’s a lie, I’m not sorry at all. Maybe I should be but I’m not. I don’t regret it. And it was only the one time. I wanted to tell you but she wouldn’t let me.”

Riley laughed, shoulders shaking, and threw his head back to laugh up at the clouds. “Who’d have thought the great, smoother than smooth Sam Wilson could get flustered?” 

“I am _not _flustered.” 

Riley laughed harder at the warning finger being pointed in his direction, and Sam couldn’t hold the stern look for more than twenty seconds before he was chortling along with him.

“Am I a shitty friend?” asked Sam, once the laughter had quieted. 

Riley’s face scrunched with a denial, “Nah. I’d be a shitty friend if I had a problem with it. If you’re good enough to be my best friend, you’re good enough to date my sister.”

“Ah, man,” Sam groaned, “it’s not even like that. We didn’t even talk about it being a possibility. It really was only one night. And that sounds way worse when I say it out loud.” 

“Well, if it ever is a possibility, you’ve got my blessing.” 

“Thank you, that means a lot.” 

“But I’m trusting her to you,” Riley told him frankly and the joking tone had vanished. “You can’t be some douchebag that’s gonna break her heart, she deserves better. What is it that you always say?” He contemplated the answer for a moment. “Something about only ruining their lipstick?” 

Sam nodded and laughed, “That’s the one. A man should never ruin a woman’s mascara, only her lipstick.” 

“Well when it comes to her, live by that mantra.” 

Sam chuckled but agreed, “I’ll do my best.” 

* * *

** _Friday, February 21st 2014._ **

  


The video played for maybe the twentieth time, Skylar had lost count, just kept dragging the cursor back to make it start again. She was lucky she had her own office. If her colleagues had been able to see her, they for sure would have asked if she were okay and the question would have, without a doubt, caused the panic that was simmering in her chest to erupt in a flood of tears and shallow breaths that would then result in hyperventilation.

She felt sick, wouldn’t have been surprised if her skin was a pale shade of green, and the replays were not helping in the slightest, yet she couldn’t stop watching. YouTube user ‘AvengersRoc_DontAtMe’, had made a highlight reel of Sam’s–or as they were calling him, Falcon’s–best moves. 

It started with a very shaky video of the fight on the bridge. A car was already on fire, bullets were being sprayed and Sam ducked behind a car. It cut to the next scene, Sam sneaking up on a guy looking over the edge of the bridge. Sam looked badass, Skylar wouldn’t deny it. Who takes a knife to a gunfight and ends up with a gun? Sam. Only Sam could do that. The video repeated the same clip but at a slower pace, showing the finesse and fluidity of Sam’s movements. She often wondered why the people who shot the videos stuck around, if it were her she’d be running as fast and as far as she could.

The video seamlessly crossed to the next clip and she watched a figure jump from the 41st floor – she’d counted – of a collapsing building. Even before the news confirmed the identity of the jumper, she’d known it was Sam. Though she knew he landed in the hovering helicopter, had seen the footage a hundred times before, she still held her breath until the aircraft levelled out and flew off-screen.

That footage had been all over the news and social media for three days now. The world was amazed, in awe of Captain America and had nothing but praise for his new high flying friend. But Skylar couldn’t bask in the celebration and solidarity that the heroes seemed to inspire. She felt more alone than she ever had. 

Three days ago Sam had jumped from a collapsing building and flown off in a helicopter. She had no idea if he was injured, hell if he was alive. He’d survived the jump, but what state had he been in before the jump? And what the hell had happened to his wings? 

She’d grown up in a military family, going back three generations on her father’s side and that included her mother working as an administrator in the Air Force where she met Skylar’s father. So Skylar knew how missions were run, understood the need for radio silence. But she despised not knowing.

Sighing, she grabbed her phone and reread the messages they had exchanged. Sam had kept his promise and checked in when he could. The first message he’d sent minutes after leaving her in the parking lot. 

**Sam**: As soon as I’m home, I’m taking you on a date. Just you and me, a quiet little booth in the back of Gino’s, a bottle of whiskey. 

**Skylar**: Lol. You know I can’t handle my whiskey. You fixin’ to get me drunk, babe?

**Sam**: Damn straight. I wanna drink whiskey and get frisky with my girl.

She envisioned his dorky eyebrow waggle every time she read that one.

**Skylar**: You didn’t need to get me drunk the first time and you don’t need to now. But I’m down for a night of Sam Wilson’s charm, sweeping me off my feet. 

**Sam**: It’s a date. I gotta go dark, baby girl. Check in soon.

He’d been gone almost two weeks and it had been five days since she’d last spoken to him properly. Sam had left her a voicemail four days before, she’d been in the shower and missed his call. She pushed play now, perhaps the sound of his voice would help ease some of her anxiety. 

_“Hey, baby girl. I guess you’re busy. Was really hoping to hear your voice. I have to be quick but just wanted you to know I’m good. Can’t wait to get home. Gino’s, whiskey, and you,_” his sigh sounded tired but dreamy, as if the thought of finally taking her on a proper date was the only thing that kept him sane. “_I’ll be home soon. Not soon enough, though. I miss my girl._”

‘_My girl_’

She swore her heart stopped. As a teenager, her family and professors would ask what she wanted to be when she grew up. Her answer was always ‘a career woman’. The career choice differed throughout the years because like most young people, she had yet to decide on what that ‘career’ would be, but the only constant for her was to be ‘Sam’s girl’, though she kept that particular detail to herself.

Sam had called her his girl before - playfully or when teasing her but that time it sounded different. Perhaps it was because that was all she’d ever wanted to be. Sam Wilson’s girl. To be coveted by him. Nevertheless, the recording of his voice sounded content, genuine, and hopeful, but most of all, the endearing term sounded like ‘I love you.’

Skylar had the career she wanted – public relations manager for the NFL – but the only thing that had been missing from her life’s plan was Sam. And she hoped, beyond all hope, that after that kiss in the parking lot, it meant that the missing piece was finally in place.

The squeak of her door handle being turned announced a visitor, and Skylar looked up just as her assistant, Mason, stepped into her office. He closed out the commotion from the trenches when he pulled the door shut behind him, but the hustle and bustle around the cubicles had already burst her Sam Wilson bubble and returned her to the real world.

“Are you watching those videos again?”

“Guilty as charged,” she confessed with a heavy sigh, locking her phone and putting it aside. 

Mason lowered himself into the white leather chair opposite her, a disapproving curve to his mouth. “Girl, I swear if you don’t stop, I’m going to have I.T. block YouTube.”

Skylar clicked the tab closed on her screen and held her palms high, “I’m done. Promise.”

“Good.” He bounced in his seat, mouth curling into a satisfied grin. “Now get your stuff, it’s Friday.” 

“You don’t have to take me out, Mase.” 

The disapproving look returned, and Skylar had to laugh at the dramatic way he crossed his legs and rolled his eyes. “One, I know I don’t _have _to. I want to, it’s been far too long since we went out,” he raised his brow as a challenge to contradict him. “Two, we should have gone _yesterday _but _you_ purposely booked late meetings. And three, _do not_ make me break a promise to Sam.” 

Sam had called Mason, unbeknownst to Skylar, after he left and made him promise to take care of her, which included taking her to toast Riley every Thursday in Sam’s place while he was away. 

“He’s a big shot Avenger now, friends in high places. I’m sure he could have me locked up or tortured, which he would if I let you skip a toast to Riley.” Mason remarked, then stared off into nothing thinking aloud, “although I wouldn’t mind it that much if it were Captain America doing the torturing…”

Skylar barked a laugh, “Mason, focus!”

He shook his head as if to physically shake away the sordid path his mind had taken and fixed her with a bright, white smile. He jumped to his feet, clapping his hands together. “We’re going to the bar, we’re going to toast Riley, and when Damien arrives, you’re going to tell us the prom night story.” 

She chuckled but began the process of shutting down her computer. “I’ve told you like a million times.” 

“I know, but Damien hasn’t heard it, and it’s my favourite story.” 

* * *

Mason and Skylar weaved through the crowd to get to the bar. The multiple conversations were deafening, the background music completely drained out by the sheer number of people. The place was definitely at capacity. They had been lucky that Henry, the regular doorman, was working that night and allowed them to skip the queue.

“Hey, Joe,” Skylar greeted the barman as he approached. She had to lean closer and still shout to be heard, “It’s heaving in here tonight. What’s goin’ on?” 

“Yeah,” agreed Joe with a big smile nodding his head. “Some chick tweeted that she met the Falcon in here a couple months ago and now it seems like everyone is waiting to see if he shows up again.” His focus on pouring their drinks, which he knew without having to ask – a shot of Jameson each – and he didn’t notice Skylar’s expression drop from a smile to apprehensive dread. Joe continued, “I keep telling everyone if he were coming he’d have been here yesterday.”

Once the drinks had been poured, he slid them over the bar and finally made eye contact with Skylar, immediately he became apologetic and reassuring, “Don’t worry, none of us have mentioned you.” 

Skylar forced a smile, she wasn’t worried about people knowing who she was or that she knew the infamous Falcon. It was the person behind the tweet that had the place packed to the rafters that caused concern. The combined laughter of a large group of people penetrated the worried buzz in her ears, and her eyes followed the sound involuntarily. Before she found the collective group, she knew who she would find. 

_Gabriella._

Sam had bedded the gorgeous Latino woman a few months ago, before he and Skylar became a thing, Skylar had been his wingman. And now she was surrounded by a group of men and women, centre of attention, no doubt retelling the story of her night with Captain America’s new best friend. Skylar swallowed a thick lump of dread and quickly turned away before Gabriella noticed her staring. The last thing she wanted was to have to converse with her.  
  
“Is that her?” Mason asked motioning subtly in the direction of the crowd.

Skylar nodded, taking a step closer to the bar hoping the people around her would further conceal her. “Yep.”

Mason nudged her glass toward her and raised his own. “To Riley,” he leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, “and Sam’s safe return.”

Her smile, though more genuine than the last, was still half-hearted, “Riley and Sam.” 

* * *

The regular spot at the bar she would normally occupy with Sam had been taken, which she was partly grateful for. It meant she had an excuse to make Mason find a space in the back to be away from prying eyes and ears.

Once Damien arrived, and combined with Mason’s bad influence, Skylar had drank a lot more than she had intended to and was positively buzzed by ten-thirty. But it was the boys who both screamed excitedly when Sam’s smiling face flashed up on Skylar’s phone that sat on the table. 

Skylar laughed shaking her head but quickly answered the call. “Hey, babe, let me get outside. Give me a second,” she told him, walking through the crowd. “Okay,” she sighed happily once she passed through the doors. “I’ll be able to hear you now.” 

“Hey, baby girl,” Sam greeted a broad smile evident in his voice. “How’s my favorite girl?”

“Missin’ her favorite guy.”

“I’ll be home soon. Promise.” he sighed and sounded almost as fed up as she felt. “Wait. You did mean me right? I know you have a soft spot for Henry.”

“Okay, you got me, you’re my second favorite guy.” She laughed teasingly, “Third if we’re including Mason.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?” he laughed loudly. 

She closed her eyes and could see him, brows raised high, his smile with an edge of mischief to it. It felt so good to hear his voice, to tease him. He sounded fine, more than fine. He sounded like Sam, but she still needed to know, “How are you, really?”

“I’m fine, baby girl,” he assured her. 

“You jumped from the forty-first floor of a crumbling building into a helicopter and you’re _fine_?”

“Okay, I’m sore as hell,” he joked in a tone that asked if she were happy he’d admitted it. “But nuthin’ a night with my girl won’t fix.” 

She smirked and bit her lip, there it was again, ‘my girl’. She wanted to ask what it meant, what it really meant. Did it hold more meaning than before? Were they just dating or more? It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have over the phone. Besides, maybe they weren’t there yet. Was it too soon for the ‘what are we? Where are we going?’ conversation. 

“Well hurry up and get your sore ass home, and I’ll fix whatever needs fixin’!” 

“I’ll be back sooner than you think,” he teased smugly. “Just gotta wrap up a couple things.” 

“You know where to find me, Falcon.” 

“Urgh,” he groaned but she heard the proud smile, “don’t start callin’ me that.”

“What’d you prefer? Eagle? Sparrow?” 

He chuckled, “Sam is fine.” She heard someone call his name in the background, and he puffed an annoyed breath. “I gotta go, baby,” he informed her sadly, “I’ll see you soon.” 

Every other time he ended the call with ‘check in soon’, her stomach fluttered giddily. ‘See you soon’ really meant he’d see her soon. She grinned, “Bye, babe.” 

Her smile remained as she made her way back to Mason and Damien, excited to tell them Sam was okay and dissect all the things he’d said to her. They were waiting for her expectantly, almost vibrating with anticipation. 

Skylar had barely taken her seat when she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Gabriella staring back at her with a broad smile. “I thought it was you!” Gabriella exclaimed, dipping to hug her as if they were the best of friends. 

Skylar awkwardly hugged her back, her body a little ridgid. She really didn’t want to talk to her, and the giddy bubble she’d floated in from her conversation with Sam was slowly decreasing in size.

Gabriella pulled back, sensing Skylar’s reluctance. “I’m sorry. It’s just, Sam told me so much about you, I feel like I know you.” 

“It’s fine,” said Skylar, though her tight smile told another story.

“How’re you?” Gabriella asked standing straight again, eyeing Damien and Mason. 

“Um…yeah, I’m good. How’re…”

Gabriella cut her off, “Is Sam with you?”

Skylar’s jaw flexed, a fake, polite smile on her lips. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news,” she told her, “Sam’s working.” 

“Have you heard from him? I’ve tried to call him but he’s not picking up.” 

“It’s called going dark, sweetie,” Mason piped up. “Means he can’t answer calls when he’s busy saving the world with Captain America.” 

Gabriella quirked a brow, sassed back, “I don’t remember asking you, _honey_!” 

Skylar responded quickly before Mason gave the woman a piece of his mind, which she knew he was close to doing. “He’s right. Sam’s on radio silence. I’m sure he’ll return your calls when he can,” she explained. 

Mason couldn’t help adding, “_If_ he wants to that is.”

“Oh, he _needs _to,” Gabriella replied keeping her eyes on Skylar. She didn’t like that it sounded like a threat, liked even less the slightly twisted smirk that fixed on the pretty woman’s face when she continued, “Sam’s your best friend, right?”

Skylar nodded and swallowed thickly, the fizz in her gut told her something was wrong.

“So, you know we were dating?” 

Skylar stopped her eyes from rolling but couldn’t stop herself from scoffing. They hadn’t been dating, they went on a grand total of three dates. Gabriella had cancelled the fourth, told Sam she wasn’t over her ex and needed some time. She recalled thinking Gabriella was a damn fool for blowing him off, for not taking a chance to be with someone as sweet, kind, funny, handsome, courageous, brave, generous, and selfless as Sam.

“Look, he’s called me a few times,” explained Skylar, “I’d be happy to pass on a message _when _I speak to him.” 

She wasn’t happy to pass on any message, it was simply a polite thing a _friend _would do and seemed the quickest way to get rid of the woman.

“_When_ you speak to him,” started Gabriella, that evil curve to her mouth stretched wider, her hand went to her flat stomach and she very gently and purposefully stroked a soft circle, “Congratulate him on becoming a daddy. And tell him to call me.” Her hair flicked over her shoulder as she sashayed away.

Skylar watched until she disappeared into the crowd, then turned to Mason and Damien. Mason thrust a glass of wine toward her and she unceremoniously gulped it down. 

“She could be lying,” Mason stated while he filled her glass again. 

“I’d bet money on it, darling,” Damien agreed with his boyfriend, putting a reassuring hand atop hers on the table. 

“Oh, for sure she is, Sky,” Mason confirmed. “She saw him on the news then saw dollar signs.”

“She saw an opportunity and she took it. She thinks she’s gonna get magazine deals.” 

“And be the next fucking Kardashian!”

Skylar half-smiled at their attempts to help her process, but the question in her mind was screaming too loudly. “And what if she’s not?” she asked bleakly, sipping her wine with a little more dignity this time. “What if she’s carrying Sam’s baby?”

* * *

** _Saturday, February 22nd 2014. _ **

Sam’s enthusiastic, breaking-the-speed-limit driving got him to Skylar’s in record time. As it was early on a Saturday morning, there was a chance she was still sleeping, especially since she’d been out with Mason the night before and probably drank too much wine. He half hoped she was still asleep so he could climb into bed with her and get started on keeping his promise of showing her everything that had changed since her prom night. 

He used his key to let himself in and heard voices. He paused to listen and was happy to realise it was simply a news broadcast reporting the latest headlines and that she didn’t have company. He didn’t mind that she was awake, he could start fulfilling his promises just as well on the sofa or the kitchen counter, no bed required.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called out, happily pausing a moment in the hallway, hoping to have one of those rom-com moments she’d forced him to watch over the years. Skylar would appear from whatever room, run happily into his arms, knocking him over. They’d end up in a tangle of limbs, laughing between breathless, passionate kisses that wordlessly told the other how much they had missed them. But he received no response.

Maybe she hadn’t heard him, or she was in the shower and just left the tv on. But then he smelled the distinct odor of bleach mixed with the pungent aroma of other cleaning products. Skylar cleaned to the point of obsession when she was stressed. It was too early on her day off for her to be casually cleaning, so he suspected something was wrong. 

“_Unrest in the Middle East continues.._.” Sam followed the serious tone of the news anchor further into the house.

Skylar was seated at the breakfast bar, hands hugging her coffee mug as if she were glued to it and staring as if she was searching for something in the dark liquid. Though she didn’t raise her head to glance at him, he could see she looked completely dejected and grim. 

He’d seen her wear the look before, just after Riley had died, when she told Sam she wanted to throw in the towel and give up. Though he’d never told her, that had been part of the reason he had retired, to help her grieve the loss of her brother, to ensure that look never returned to mar her pretty features. But there it was, set deep in the crease of her brow, tainting the green of her eyes. Now that look was back, it scared him. 

She made no move to greet him, or acknowledged his presence. “Skylar,” said Sam cautiously. 

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and maybe it was the sight of him that brought her back to reality, but she quickly stood and rushed at him. He followed suit and they met in the middle of the room. She crashed into him almost painfully, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her head in the crook of his neck.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, stroking her hair and squeezing her tighter against him. 

She shook her head but gave no other response. He kept her locked in his arms, gave her a minute to work through whatever emotions she was feeling. Maybe it was relief he was home, overwhelmed that he was actually standing in front of her. But then he felt warm tears seep into his shirt. 

“Skylar,” he demanded urging her back a step and holding her in place firmly so he could look at her. “What the hell’s goin’ on?” 

She shook him off and wiped her wet cheeks, returning to her seat. “I, um…you need to call Gabriella.” 

“Gabri…what’re you talking about?” 

“She was in the bar last night,” Skylar explained. Unable to meet his eye, she spoke to her coffee. “Came over to ask if you were with me. Asked me to pass on a message.” 

“She’s been blowin’ me up, but I haven’t…”

“Sam, she’s pregnant,” she blurted out, cutting him off. 

Sam almost dumbly asked why Skylar was telling him a past hook-up was pregnant, like what did that have to do with him? But then his brain caught up. “What the…How?” 

She chuckled humorlessly and finally looked up at him, “Come on, Sam, you know how babies are made.” 

“She can’t be,” His brow furrowed and his head shook with confusion and denial. He replayed his encounters with Gabby in his mind and declared, “I was always careful, wrapped up every time.”

Skylar’s face scrunched with a look of disgust. “Spare me the details,” she advised, making her way around the bar to take her mug to the sink.

Sam watched as she poured the remainder down the drain and began furtively washing out the cup. The cloud of steam from the running hot water got thicker and he was sure it must have been scolding her hands. He rushed to her side and knocked the tap off, she froze and stared at his hand on top of hers. 

“It’s clean,” said Sam, taking it from her and putting it on the draining board to dry out.

She took a step back away from him. “You need to call her, or go see her, whatever.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed, “but first you need to talk to me.”

She began vigorously wiping the countertop but didn’t otherwise respond. He took a step toward her to stop her stress cleaning, and she tried to make it seem natural but was not so subtle in walking away to the other end of the counter. 

“Can you at least _look_ at me?”

She stopped the unnecessary cleaning and gripped the edges of the bar. “Honestly? I can’t do either right now.” She spoke to her feet to hide the tears that ran down her cheeks, but he could hear the battle she fought to hold them back in her voice. “I know this isn’t your fault. I know _no-one_ is at fault here, but I just can’t. Not right now.” 

“Look, I get it.” Sam hesitantly made his way closer to her, “It’s messed up but we need to talk about this, Sky. What all this means.” He reached for her hand, and her body tensed but didn’t pull away. He slowly stepped closer to her, intertwined their hand, and with a soft touch on her hip, turned her to face him. “We need to talk about us.”

She stayed in place but became interested in their feet, refusing to look up. “There’s no _us _to talk about, Sam.” 

The statement sounded certain but he saw the hurt the words caused her. Her brow creased and her nose wrinkled slightly like they left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Call me selfish,” she shrugged and it stated that she didn’t care if that’s exactly what she was. “But if there was ever an us, I’d want _all _of you. I don’t want to share you with another woman or a kid.” 

“You might not have to!” He groaned, perplexed. “Can you give me some time to work it out? Please.”

He put a finger under her chin and tried to gently raise her head but she shook him off. 

“Neither of us have said or done anything we can’t take back,” she explained, the fingers of the hand that wasn’t holding his played nervously with the hem of his shirt. “And I think we should keep it that way.”

“What if I don’t accept that, huh?” asked Sam. Even to his own ears he sounded defeated, he knew he was fighting a battle he couldn’t win. She was too far beyond reasoning right now. 

Skylar didn’t respond, just continued to stare at the ground and chew the inside of her cheek. He dipped down trying to catch her eye but she wriggled her hand free and took a step back, and Sam lost his cool, his volume increasing though he hadn’t meant it to. “What if I wanna say sumthin’ I can’t take back?”

“I’m asking you not to,” she begged and raised her head to show him the look of defiance and fury in her eyes as she shook her head. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He couldn’t bring himself to argue with her. He wanted to, he wanted to fight her on everything she’d said. Say all the things she’d asked him not to, everything he wouldn’t _want _to take back. Tell her he’d spent the last sixteen years wishing he was the one by her side, that she was always on his mind. The letters she sent him and the phone calls while he was serving his country helped to keep him going. That all the times he’d told her he loved her, he’d meant it but as more than a friend, deeper than family. But he couldn’t do it, wouldn’t be selfish and tell her everything he felt. Because he knew it would only serve to hurt her more and he couldn’t stand to be the reason she was suffering.

Riley had tasked Sam with being her protector, trusted him to take care of her. It started with prom night, and Sam had taken the duty seriously. But now, making her cry, being the cause of her torment, whether intentional or not, wasn’t part of the job description. He’d failed and he wasn’t going to make it worse. 

Just like that, in the blink of an eye, he knew it was over. Before they’d even got started it was over. 

“I’m gonna be here for you,” she told him with a benevolent smile. “I’m going to help you through whatever happens, like I always have been. As a friend.”

He believed her. And that made him hate it that much more. He didn’t want her to be his friend, but he knew no matter what happened, she’d be there by his side, being the best friend she’d always been. 

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” Sam stepped closer and cupped her face, kissing her forehead softly before turning and leaving.

* * *

##  ** _Part 2 - Coming 9th March 2020_ **

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

##  **Talking To The Moon - Part 2**

** _Saturday February 22nd 2014. _ **

Sam jabbed the elevator button with more force than was necessary. It didn’t matter, Tony could afford to fix it if his incessant jabbing broke it. He gave the button a break and gripped the silver rail as the doors slid closed.

_I’ll do my best._

The promise he’d made to Riley, years ago, pinballed around his head as the elevator soundlessly whisked him toward the floor Jarvis had told him Steve was located on. 

Sam raised his gaze from his feet to look at his reflection in the mirror. The image that stared back at him pissed him off. He was a failure, and this failure had the audacity to look upset when it glared back at him. How had he managed to do this to his best friend–fuck that, best _friends_–to fail them both in such a spectacular way? He’d never done things by halves and this seemed to be no exception. 

He should have punched the idiot gawking back at him, but instead of punching the image, he shook the bar aggressively. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck!” he roared.

“Mr. Wilson, are you okay?” Even for artificial intelligence, Jarvis sounded concerned.

_Fuck off, Jarvis,_ Sam wanted to respond but decided against it. 

Not satisfied with his lack of answer and programmed to be a pain in Sam’s ass, Jarvis asked, “Should I alert medical?” 

“No!” Sam snapped. “Not unless they’ll euthanize me peacefully,” he grumbled stepping off onto the eighty-second floor. 

“Not sure about the ‘peacefully’ part,” Natasha piped up from her position resting against the doorframe of the kitchen. “But I’m more than qualified to assist you,” she quipped, as Steve appeared over her shoulder. Jarvis had obviously informed them of Sam’s pending arrival and they’d been laying in wait for the elevator to arrive. 

“Just fuckin’ do it,” Sam begged her.

“Sam,” Steve started, giving him a disapproving scowl, “What’s goin’ on? You were stoked about leaving here, going to see your girl. It’s barely been four hours.” 

Natasha’s mouth twitched wickedly, “He works fast.” 

Any other time Sam would have retaliated and thrown in a suggestive remark about his stamina, but he couldn’t find it in him, not today. 

Ever the referee, Steve scolded her with a curt growl of her name. 

Sam sighed, raked a hand down his face, and gave them both a pleading look, “I need your help.” 

Settled at the kitchen table, Nat and Steve sat across from him with similar sympathetic expressions, but even in the informal setting, he couldn’t shake the feeling they were interrogating him, judging him for his past indiscretions. 

“You sure you were careful _every _time?” Steve asked, sounding like a disapproving brother. “No slip ups, heat of the moment and all that, breakages?” 

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes - _for the hundredth time_ \- “I’m positive.” 

“So’s she,” Nat jested under her breath. 

“_Nat_,” Steve chided, whipping his head to look at her. 

“Ah man, let her have her fun,” Sam sighed, “someone should get a laugh out of the shit show that is my life.” 

She stopped stifling the laugh she’d tried to bite down and chuckled shuffling forward in her seat to rest her elbows on the table. “Come on Sam, you can’t honestly believe this woman. You go on four dates, she ditches you and then the second you’re on the news she’s pregnant?” 

Sam nodded in agreement, it had sounded suspect to him too. Until he’d been to see Gabby. “Well, I couldn’t exactly accuse her of faking it and the scan she showed me was pretty convincing.”

Nat shrugged, “Could be a friend’s scan. Or another guy’s kid. We know she’s not opposed to picking guys up in bars.” She reasoned, “I’m not passing judgement, I’ve had my fair share. I’m _just _sayin’ you weren’t the first and you probably won’t be the last. But she has more to gain if this baby is yours, if there even _is _a baby.” 

“What’s her name?” Steve questioned, his voice changed to the distinct mission mode.

“Gabriella.” 

Sam shrugged one shoulder and grimaced when Steve looked disappointed at the lack of a last name. 

Nat laughed but her eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “But you know her address, right? We’ve done more with less information, so this is what we’re gonna do.” 

* * *

** _Thursday February 27th 2014 _ **

Sam hadn’t wanted to meet at the regular spot for their Thursday night drinks. He’d thought it was best to keep a low profile, so he’d invited Skylar to his place. He was surprised she’d agreed. He’d known her long enough to understand she preferred avoidance over confrontation and he’d prepared himself for her to ignore him or give some bullshit excuse to cancel on him at the last minute. 

Since the pregnancy revelation five days before, they’d exchanged the sum total of three messages. Nothing more than a quick check in to see how the other was doing. They both claimed to be **‘**_fine’ _and steered clear of any tough discussions, so he was shocked she’d shown up, and further stunned she had been on time with their usual order from Gino’s. Sam understood she was making an effort to keep things as normal as possible, and while he loved her for it, he hated the fake smiles and awkward small talk. 

During their takeout dinner, their conversation had flowed. Skylar had been the one to bring up Gabby and he’d quickly updated her on the situation. A scheduled doctor’s appointment next week that he would attend with her to check on the baby’s health and find out how soon a DNA test could be done. 

Sam had hope that Nat’s plan would succeed, that he’d be able to put the whole Gabby fiasco behind him and start the life he wanted with Skylar. But he worried about giving her false hope. What if the life he wanted them to have was a pipedream? It would be cruel to push his belief on to her, build up their hope only to have it torn away, _again_. So he’d decided not to tell Skylar about Steve and Nat’s involvement, or the fact his doubts about the truth of the pregnancy grew the more time he spent with Gabby. Mainly because Gabby had tried, unsuccessfully and adamantly, to get him into bed. 

Sam treated that information as if it were a covert mission and diverted the conversation to Skylar, the way he used to on their long distance calls, asking about her promotion. She informed him she had a meeting on Monday and she was confident the job was hers. 

Their casual attitude felt normal, like old times. Sam had almost convinced himself everything was good, and he could have at least pretended it was except for the fact Skylar couldn’t bring herself to look at him. 

Skylar sat as far away as she could, on the other end of the couch and perhaps it was his insecurities but she really didn’t seem like she wanted to be there. She did everything to avoid looking at him. Though her body was turned toward him, one leg tucked underneath herself and one foot flat on the floor she barely lifted her head towards him and her eyes kept flicking toward the door like she was fighting internally to not bolt out of the room. 

He caught her eye and she looked away, into her lap. She’d been doing the same all night, looking at a spot on the wall behind him, the floor, picked imaginary lint from her jeans, or stared at the television that was on in the background. She looked everywhere but his face. 

They toasted Riley and the clinking of their glasses seemed to signal the end of the small talk they had desperately tried to keep alive. The tinkling of glass on glass faded and the tension grew steadily. 

He felt like she wasn’t there. Maybe physically she was sat within touching distance, but mentally she was somewhere else, and he hated it because he was there with her. In his mind, they weren’t so far apart. She was tucked up under his arm, inhaling the scent of her summer spiced perfume, making plans for their future. Skylar stared down at her fidgeting hands in her lap, and after a long tense moment, Sam couldn’t take it any longer. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” said Sam, trying without success to not sound as hopeless as he felt. 

Her heavy sigh was mixed with a scoff, “Why not? Nothing’s changed.” 

“Everything’s changed.” 

“Not for me it hasn’t.” 

Then Skylar met his bereft gaze, and Sam wished she hadn’t. Her brow was slightly pinched, like she had a permanent dull ache somewhere. And as much as he hated it, he understood. He’d felt the tightness in his chest since he’d returned home days ago, felt the ache that he couldn’t quite pinpoint the location of. But he knew the antidote lay in her tender kiss, the gentle caress of her hand. Damn, even a friendly hug would have helped subdue it, if only temporarily, but she’d denied him even that. 

“For my entire life, I’ve wanted you, Sam. I’ve always been in lo-” She bit off the sentiment and corrected herself, “_into _you. Always. But I’ve had years of practice at hiding it or ignoring it, whatever. Now isn’t any different. So nothing has changed. Not for me.” 

“You make it sound like I haven’t been doing the same. Hiding what I feel, pretending.” 

“Don’t do this, please.” 

“I want to do this,” he growled, frustrated as he dragged himself across the sofa to occupy the middle cushion and be closer to her. “I’m so fuckin’ tired of dancing around this shit, Sky!” 

“You think I’m not?” she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. 

She glared at him for a moment before turning her body away from him, both feet flat on the floor and he worried for a second she would get up and leave. Instead, Skylar closed herself off, elbows resting on her knees with her face buried in her hands. 

Her voice was muffled, but he heard her clearly, “It’s not gonna change anything. It’ll just make everything harder.” She sniffed back tears, and the plea in her voice was unmistakable. “So can we just not, please?” 

Sam peered at her, contemplating whether to push the issue or not, though he agreed, talking about it, discussing their feelings, or rather finally admitting what they felt,wouldn’t make it any easier or less painful to be around her. He watched her shoulders rise and fall as she heaved deep breaths to stop herself from crying, and once again he felt like an absolute asshole, a failure. 

“Riley knew.” Sam wasn’t sure why he blurted it out or why he wanted her to know. Maybe he wanted her to know because she’d always been the one to help him navigate his emotions, get his thoughts in order, and he needed, now more than ever, for her to tell him he wasn’t the jackass he thought he was. Needed to hear her say he hadn’t failed as a friend to Riley or to her. 

He heard her sharp intake of breath but didn’t hear her release it. She slowly lowered her hands and sat up straighter to stare wide-eyed at him. 

“A few days before…” Sam still found it difficult to say. Every time he said ‘he died’, the image of Riley dropping from the sky haunted him. He swallowed a thick lump that threatened to consume him. Her eyes swam behind tears, and he had to clear his throat to stop his own from doing the same. “He heard us on the phone. Told me that we had his blessing.” 

“Sam,” she winced, a mixture of a warning and sympathy laced her tone. 

Regardless of the concern edging Skylar’s raspy voice, he begged, “Please, let me say this.” 

Her shimmering eyes bore into his, but she nodded almost undetectably and reached out to put a hand on his leg. It took all of his strength to not cover hers with his own. He knew it was probably an automatic reaction, a habit to comfort him, but he didn’t want to do anything to cause her to pull away. 

“After he said it, it was all I could think about. I wanted to come home and be with you. But it was already so hard to leave you behind, and we were just friends then. I was scared if we were more, if I told you that after our night together I realized how much I really loved you and if you’d said it back… I’d never have gone back out there. To be with you, I’d’ve had to break my promise to Riley. To not be his wingman. I didn’t want to let him down or ask you to wait for me. But then he…He left us both, and I didn’t want that to be the reason we-” 

He expelled a heavy-hearted breath and couldn’t stop his hand from picking up hers from his knee. And now he was the one who couldn’t meet her eyes, but she squeezed his hand as if encouraging him to continue. 

“I needed it to be real, y’know. Not because we were grieving. I wanted you to want me, not _need _me to fill a void. But I see it now, it was real. Before Riley…and after, it’s always been real. I love you. I’m _in _love with you, and I have been for a long _goddamn_ time…” Sam scrunched his eyes closed, his brow knitted tightly together. _That_ pain in his chest became almost unbearable but he continued, “And I’m sorry it took me so _fuckin’_ long to figure it out.” 

If he hadn’t have been holding her hand, he wouldn’t have known she was still there. She was silent, perfectly still, had stopped breathing. He cautiously opened his eyes, worried what expression would be waiting for him - unwarranted anger for expressing his feelings when she’d specifically asked him not, mournful tears for wasted time and a life that may never be. 

Skylar’s cheeks were sodden and he didn’t understand how she could cry so many tears yet be so quiet. She leaned in and pressed the lightest kiss to his lips. Her hand slipped to the back of his neck and when she pulled away, resting her forehead against his, she released a strangled sob that puffed against his mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” whispered Skylar. “I’m sorry, I’m too selfish to share you. I’m sorry I was too afraid to lose you as a friend that I never told you that I love you. And I’m sosorry that I can’t start something with you to just have it taken away.” She pulled back and her eyes looked like green crystals shimmering behind tears. That was enough to convey her heartbreak but the crack in her voice and the next words she spoke were like a death blow to break through Sam’s chest straight to his own heart, “You were my first, and I thought _finally_ I’d get what I wanted, that you’d be my last.” 

* * *

** _Saturday March 1st 2014 _ **

The cocoon Skylar had buried herself in on the couch was warm and snug. There, with only her head poking above the blankets, she felt safe. Shielded from the world and watching Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock fall in love on a speeding bus, she could pretend that the outside world didn’t exist. She’d rejoin reality when the anticipated pizza man delivered her meat feast special, but that would take minutes and then she could go back to wallowing. 

She had ignored all of Sam’s calls for two days, and he had been smart enough not to try to communicate via messages because that was a sure fire way to get wires crossed. But when her news alert popped up, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for the phone. 

The title of the notification turned her stomach: _Has_ _The Falcon Found His Tweetheart? _Skylar knew she should have turned off the notifications for ‘The Falcon’ and that she shouldn’t click it. She knew the pictures would make her feel worse, yet her thumb hit it anyway. 

Sam and Gabby looked good together, with each candid photo they looked more and more like a couple. Tucked up in a booth at Gino’s - the place Sam was supposed to take Skylar on their first official date that never came to fruition - leaning into one another, feeding each other, Sam kissing her cheek. She scanned the short article. The journalist wasn’t sure who the woman was, but regardless of the details, they looked happy and ‘loved up’. 

“More like knocked up!” Skylar groaned, swiping out of the story and tossing the phone aside. 

The ringing doorbell startled her, and she silently prayed it was the pizza man and not Sam tracking her down because she’d ignored him. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m coming!” Skylar called out, annoyed at the impatient visitor who knocked for a third time in a matter of seconds. 

Piercing blue eyes greeted her, and Steve gave a small smile with his greeting. “Hi.” 

Her ears buzzed and her stomach lurched. There was only one reason Steve Rogers would be impatiently knocking at her door on a Saturday afternoon. Sam was… Sam had… 

She couldn’t even contemplate it. She inhaled sharply, held her breath to try and swallow down the wave of sickness that washed over her. Steve’s image distorted when tears collected in her eyes, and she put a hand to her mouth in case she really did vomit. 

“Oh jesus, no.” Steve quickly crossed the threshold, was quick to put a comforting hand on her shoulder and push her back to an upright position before she had a chance to put her head between her knees. “Sam’s fine! He’s fine.” 

It took a moment for his words to echo through the buzz, but when they did, she slapped his hand off her shoulder and swung around to punch him in the arm. “Ow!” she yelped, immediate regret for forgetting he was a super-soldier and evidently made of marble. She glared at him, cradling her hand to her chest. “Shit! Are you made of stone?” She flicked her hand trying to shake off the pain and work the feeling back to it. “You _fuckin’_ jackass!” 

“Hey! You punched me?” Steve defended, watching her pained jig. 

Musical laughter filtered through her pained cursing, and Skylar looked up to see Nat leaning on the doorframe with an amused smirk lighting her eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, “Sam will kill me if you show up broken.” 

“It’s not broken,” Skylar told him through gritted teeth and flexed her hand a couple times. It ached but didn’t hurt. “And show up broken where?” 

Nat strolled further into the house and suggested, “Maybe we should start this again?” 

Steve sighed and focused on a scowling Skylar. “Sam is fine. I came with Nat to formally introduce the two of you. And invite you to the party tonight.” 

“Sam already invited me.” 

“And you said you were coming, ” Nat reminded her, “But I’ve come to make sure you don’t bail. Or _politely _drag your ass there. Whichever is fine by me.” 

“You can _politely drag _someone?” Skylar challenged with a cocked brow. 

Nat smirked and held her arms wide walking toward Steve, “Want me to demonstrate?” 

“Oh, I can see you two are gonna get on just fine,” Steve observed dodging around Nat’s arms as she lazily ducked and weaved to grab him. Skylar chuckled at the friendly exchange but she cut it off when Steve stood in front of her. His tight expression was serious, but his eyes held a wealth of sympathy. “Sam told us you haven’t spoken for a couple days. He needs to talk to you, to tell you what’s going on before you hear it from someone else.” 

Skylar rolled her eyes and an involuntarily sneer pulled her lips back, “Like TMZ? I’ve already seen the pictures.” 

Natasha came to a stop beside Steve as if she were his back-up, but fixed Skylar with a warm smile, “We have a plan to get to the bottom of this whole Gabby situation and Sam didn’t want to tell you in case…” 

“It’s the truth,” Skylar offered with a heavy sigh turning to go into the kitchen. 

“There’s a small chance, _very _small,” assured Nat following close behind. 

“Sam hasn’t given up on the two of you,” said Steve, accepting Skylar’s offer of a bottle of water. “Neither should you.” 

Nat slipped into a seat at the breakfast bar and Steve followed her lead, both staring expectantly at Skylar. “I know you’re just being good friends to Sam,” she acknowledged passing a second bottle to Nat. “But there’s no way I’m going to a party with Sam and the chick carrying his kid.” 

“Look, I get it it’s not going to be easy,” Nat explained. “It’s probably going to be just as bad as you imagine it will be. But you’re Sam’s family. More than any of us, you should be there. He wants you there.” 

“And he deserves the chance to explain what’s going on,” Steve added, “face to face.” 

Skylar could feel her resolve wavering, they weren’t just a super soldier and a skilled assassin they were clearly master manipulators too. 

“I like you, you punch super soldiers and _blame _them for it,” Nat quipped, “but no offence, _that_,” she gestured to Skylar’s sweatpants and tank top, “is not part of the dress code.” 

Skylar frowned, “I look good,” she snarked playfully. “You don’t like the whole natural, just got out of bed look?” 

“You look _and _smell like you were in that bed for three days straight.” 

Well damn if she wasn’t perceptive as well as politely threatening too. It hadn’t been _three_ days. Thursday when she got home from Sam’s she’d changed into the attire she was currently wearing and hidden in the warmth of her bed. She’d given a bullshit excuse to work and took a personal day Friday and then spent most of Saturday morning in her bed before moving to the couch. So two days, but who was counting. Besides didn’t she deserve some time to wallow? The man she’d been in love with her entire life confessed to feeling the same for the last sixteen years and another woman was having his baby. That situation warranted a little self pity. 

Skylar put a hand to her chest offended, “I thought women were supposed to build each other up.” 

“That’s exactly what I’ll do when you get your ass in the shower and get ready.” 

“I have nothing…” 

“Taken care of,” Nat interrupted smuggly. “There’s ten dresses in the car in your size. Quit stalling. Shower. Go. Now.” Nat waved her off. 

Skylar stared at her challengingly, trying to think of another valid argument or decide whether she should call her bluff on the polite dragging. “Why are you doin’ this? I don’t mean to sound rude but what difference does it make to _you _if I’m there or not?” 

Natasha gazed at her for a long moment, as if she was considering being snarky or giving a real answer. She exhaled and the smile that crept to her lips made Skylar believe it was her first genuine one since she’d arrived. The mask was down, the tough as nails facade disappeared if only for a moment and she spoke softly. “Because you’re Sam’s family and now Sam’s our family. So that makes us family too.” 

Skylar shied from her intense gaze, tears welled in her eyes but to hide the emotion she smirked a little cockily, “Sam tell you to use the family card?” 

Natasha laughed and Steve chuckled admitting, “he doesn’t know we’re here.” 

“But we do know, Sam wants you there,” said Nat, “And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t make me spend the night watching Sam pout because you’re not there.” 

“We’re definitely family, manipulation and shit I don’t want to hear.” sighed Skylar lazily walking out of the room toward the shower. 

* * *

Skylar was grateful Nat had taken them through the back entrance to avoid the paparazzi outside of Stark Tower waiting to get the money shot of one of the many celebrities, high ranking officials, and super heroes attending the Stark Expo Party. 

She was further thankful that Natasha had forced her to shower and dress accordingly. The few people she’d spied before they snuck down the back alley proved that sweats and dirty hair were definitely not part of the dress code for the evening. 

However, she was second guessing - for the millionth time - the black floor length dress that she had chosen to wear. The open split up to her left thigh and the low rounded neck exposing the curve of her braless breasts felt a little too revealing. Regardless of how amazing the fabric felt against her skin and Nat’s reassurance, Skylar didn’t trust that the magical tape would hold her modesty in place. 

“Stop fussing!” Nat scolded her when she tried to tug the dress up at the boobs but down her exposed thigh. “You look amazing!” 

“I feel like my boobs are going to fall out,” she whined shuffling to fall in stride with Nat, “and the slightest breeze is going to expose my panties.” 

“I told you not to wear any.” 

“Yeah, cause _that_ woulda made me feel a whole lot better.” 

A drink, very strong, rich in flavor and color, _would _make her feel better, and Nat, seemingly reading her mind, headed straight for the bar, dragging Skylar by the hand as soon as they entered the main floor from the kitchen. 

“So you can’t actually read minds, then?” Skylar concluded when Nat handed her a champagne flute. 

“What?” Nat queried, wrapping her lips around the rim of her glass. 

Skylar shook her head and chuckled, taking a delicate sip of her own drink and turning to face the room. She scanned the faces. A few celebrities she recognized milled around, but she couldn’t locate Sam and Gabby. She took a minute to decide whether that was a good thing or not. Did she need more time to prepare herself, or was it best to get it over with? 

Her internal debate was interrupted when a familiar and welcome face appeared among the ones she didn’t know_, _being escorted by a pretty brunette she didn’t recognise. 

“That sourpuss look is ruining that amazing dress, honey,” Mason told her, pulling her into a hug and kissing her cheek. 

Skylar didn’t care about the insult, she was simply thankful he was there. “What’re you doing here?” 

“You’re welcome,” said Nat grinning proudly. “Figured you’d want the moral support.” 

Skylar thanked her and, truth be told, having Mason there made her feel significantly more relaxed. The pretty brunette who had escorted Mason through the crowd offered her hand, “Maria Hill. So are we ready to do this?” 

“Do what?” Skylar glanced between the newly formed group. 

“Phase one of my plan,” Nat’s brow waggled excitedly as she sipped her champagne. 

“Plan?” Skylar queried. Nat offered no response, just breezed away and called for them to follow. “Nat, you still haven’t told me the plan!” Skylar whined as she tailed the spy. 

* * *

Sam stood beside the tall barstool that Gabby was seated on, his arm draped over the back of the chair. He sipped the beer he had but it wouldn’t be long before he required something stronger. Steve was next to him, and whereas he looked bewildered and totally out of his depth, Gabby couldn’t have been happier. Her smile beamed when she marvelled at the faces of every person she recognized. It only faltered when she asked Sam if he knew them and he told her no. 

Sam didn’t mind a good party, especially when the alcohol was on someone else’s dime, but he wasn’t in the mood to play the dutiful sidekick to Captain America, fake smile for the cameras, or have to put up with Gabby’s excited gasps every time a different celebrity caught her eye. 

“Oh my god, that’s Leonardo Dicaprio,” Gabby exclaimed louder than Sam would have liked. “Do you know him?” 

Sam shook his head and took a long gulp of his beer. He was in no way a jealous guy. He didn’t care that she cared more about the people in the room than him, he just wished she was slightly more discreet about it. He didn’t want to call attention to them for fear he’d have to introduce Gabby to the world as his ‘girlfriend’. It felt wrong in every way. And it was, because it should have been Skylar by his side, introducing her to the world. After all, she was _his _world. 

Steve was talking, or rather, _complaining _about why they even had to be there, and Sam could hear him but he wasn’t listening. 

“Oh my god!” Gabby gasped again, “that’s Tom Cruise! Can you introduce me?” 

“No,” said Sam more abruptly than intended. “The _only _people here I know are Cap, and Tony.” 

“And them,” Steve corrected, nudging Sam’s arm to get his attention, then pointing in the direction of Nat, Maria, Skylar, and Mason making their way through the crowd. 

The group walking toward them was a sight to behold, Nat and Maria had replaced their uniforms with cocktail dresses and looked spectacular. Sam appreciated how beautiful they both were. And maybe he was biased but they paled in comparison to Skylar. She was something else entirely. He’d spent the last few weeks fantasizing about feeling her skin against his own and now he could _see _most of that skin. He needed a minute to quiet the visions in his mind and stop the effect they were having on his anatomy. 

Steve stepped forward, greeted each lady in turn with a half hug and kiss on the cheek and shook Mason’s hand. Sam followed his lead and introduced Gabriella to Natasha and Maria. 

“How’s the hand?” Steve asked Skylar once greetings had been exchanged and the group had gathered around the table. 

“Bruised,” she admitted holding it up to show him. 

Sam accessed the steadily progressing bruise across her knuckles, “What happened?” 

“She punched me,” Steve shrugged nonchalantly. 

Skylar scoffed, “You deserved it!” 

“It was a misunderstanding.” 

“Next time, _call _before you come over.” 

“Come over?” Gabby questioned brows raised high and a suggestive smirk on her red painted lips. “Is this,” she pointed back and forth between Cap and Skylar, “a thing?” Her excitement was palpable and she began to rant before anyone could respond. “That’d be awesome. We could double date, go as a foursome to all the parties, dinners, movies, award shows.” 

Sam put a hand on her shoulder and raised his voice above her dreamy rambling. “Babe!” 

“It’s not a thing,” Steve offered with an awkward smile. 

“And even if it were,” Maria interjected, “None of that would be possible.” Maria waited until Gabby’s full attention was on her then continued. “After tonight we need to get you somewhere secure, cut off all social media, keep you behind closed doors away from the press. Maybe even change your name.” 

“What?” Gabby stammered, “What do you mean?” 

“We need to protect you,” offered Sam. 

Maria explained further, her tone flat and direct. “We can’t flaunt you to the world, it puts a target on your back. Any potential threats would see you as a weakness, a way to get to Sam.” 

“But I thought,” Gabby’s brow furrowed and she cleared her throat audibly as if trying to find the right words. “I, um…I thought we were going to announce the baby to the world.” 

“Oh, we will,” Maria confirmed. “Once we know everything is okay, we’ll release a statement but no pictures. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe and hidden. Guards, fortified doors, it might be a little lonely but Sam will be with you when he’s not working. You’ll want for nothing, Tony has built a compound that has everything; pool, gym, screening room, nursery,” Maria winked and leant in as if to speak privately, “you need a live-in Nanny?” 

“But what about my life? My family? My friends?” 

Maria further explained as if it were the most obvious answer. “Of course they’ll have to get security clearance and we can have them escorted in for pre-arranged visits.” 

“What about the wedding?” Gabby asked, and Mason spluttered around his glass. Mason’s semi-choking and Nat’s attempt to help mop him up went unnoticed, or Gabby was too absorbed in Maria’s declarations, “I’ve always wanted a big wedding.” 

Sam drowned out her wedding plans and zeroed in on Skylar who stared back at him with just as much, if not more, intensity. 

He had planned on telling her. Had tried calling her multiple times, to let her know Nat’s scheme and to avoid the very situation they were in. He hadn’t wanted to blindside her. Though originally, he hadn’t wanted to give her false hope, now he needed her to know there was a plan in place and that he hadn’t, nor would he, give up on them. But Skylar hadn’t afforded him the opportunity, she’d ditched his calls.

So here they were, locked in a silent argument. She stared daggers at him, nostrils flaring and her chest heaving with every breath. Sam grimaced but refused to look away. Confusion and upset bled into fury, and she ground her teeth, muscles rippling along her jaw. 

Sam felt everyone’s eyes on them. Well, those who knew what reaction the revelation had caused. But he couldn’t break eye contact with her, he needed her to see how sorry he was because he couldn’t say it aloud. Steve purposely stepped between them. The back of his head blocked Sam’s view of her, and he released a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d taken. 

“Skylar,” said Steve, more of a command than a request, “dance with me.” 

Skylar took his outstretched hand, and Sam watched as she allowed him to lead her to the dancefloor. 

* * *

“We didn’t know about the engagement,” explained Steve after less than a minute of swaying with Skylar on the shiny black dance floor. “But, y’know it’s not his choice. The PR guys have been hounding him, they’re worried about the image of…” 

“I _really _don’t want to talk about it,” she interrupted. She hadn’t meant it to sound as hostile as it came out, so she explained, “I just want to dance with Captain America, be the envy of every woman - and I suspect a few men - here, rather than _be _the envious one.” 

Steve chuckled as he spun her out, twirled her under his arm and pulled her back into his chest. “You know it’s you he wants.” 

“Steve, please.” she groaned, exasperated. “I know you’re trying to be a good friend, and he’s lucky to have you and Nat looking out for him, but just stop. _Please_.” 

Steve inhaled to further protest, and Skylar pulled back to look in his eyes, “I will punch you again.” 

He conceded with a shake of his head and spun her again. Steve indulged her. She knew he would continue to dance all night if she requested. He’d give her an excuse to not have to return to the table as long as she wanted, but she knew it was unavoidable. 

After too little time, but hopefully enough that the conversation had been steered to other topics, Skylar reluctantly thanked Steve then allowed him to lead her through the throngs of people back to their friends. 

Fresh glasses of champagne and bottles of beer littered the table. Skylar focused on the drinks and not on Sam whispering something to Gabby. 

Mason handed her a full glass with a suggestive smile and a waggle of his brow. She smirked, knowing full well she’d have to give him a play by play of her dance with Steve later. Mason’s smile grew wider as he focused on something over her shoulder. She knew the smile well. It was his fake ‘it’s so nice to see you’ grin, the one he saved for the assholes they had to deal with on a daily basis at work. When she heard her name being called in a familiar monotone, she knew it was her asshole of a boss, Jerry. 

_Of course_ he’d be at a Stark Industries party. Stark Industries owned an NFL team and provided top of the range training equipment. But why did he have to be there when she was wearing a more than revealing dress? He’d always been the leering type and now she’d have to fight off the urge to vomit on his shoes when he took in her appearance and made an inappropriate remark. 

She sipped her champagne. Needed the courage and slight buzz to be polite before turning to face him and the fake smile she’d plastered on thawed into a genuine grin seeing the company Jerry kept. 

“Mike.” 

She exclaimed his name the same time he said hers and they simultaneously stepped toward one another to embrace. 

The hug and ensuing conversation lasted a minute or so longer than it should have been but Skylar didn’t care. While she was wrapped up in the familiar, tall, blond man’s arms, the rest of the room disappeared, and she was transported back to her college years. 

Mason, ever the personal assistant - always on the job - introduced Jerry to the people around the table, then her boss took over and introduced the other guest as Harvey, the CEO of the NFL’s London office. 

“So,” Jerry stated when Skylar and Mike finally parted and took notice of the others. “You two know each other.” 

“We dated in college,” Skylar explained and caught Mike’s eye. They both laughed and shied from the other’s gaze. 

“Why’d you break up?” Gabby asked. The evil smirk she’d used to tell Skylar she was pregnant, fused to her lips again as if she hoped it would be a scandalous tale. 

“I left for London,” Mike told her, “and Skylar went home. Long distance never would’ve worked.” 

“Seems like it worked out for both of us though,” Skylar commented nudging her shoulder into Mike’s. “Mister Hot Shot lawyer for the NFL.” 

“Say’s you,” Mike laughed, “Mrs. CEO…” he cut himself off quickly and his laughter crinkled eyes lifted from Skylar’s to Jerry as if asking for permission. 

Skylar watched them have a silent conversation and then Jerry clapped his hands together excitedly. “I guess now is as good a time as any. Why wait until Monday?” he started, smiling broadly and putting his arm around Skylar’s shoulder. “We want to offer you the promotion, but rather than one step up, it’ll be two. Harvey, here,” he slapped the other gentleman beside him on the back fondly. “Is retiring. So we would very much like you to be the chief executive officer for the London office.” 

She looked from Jerry to Mike to Harvey and back again as if waiting for the punchline. But when Mike nodded and smiled charmingly she understood it wasn’t a joke. 

“Should I take your stunned silence as acceptance?” Jerry laughed, tucking her into his side and shaking her unnecessarily. 

The shock had taken her breath for a moment and she needed a second to process. She locked eyes with Sam, and she wasn’t sure if he looked proud or challenging. He seemed conflicted, proud that she had achieved her goal, but daring her to accept the job because they both knew it meant she would be leaving. 

It seemed like fate, perfect timing. It’s what she had wanted, _exactly _what she had been working so hard for, _more _than what she had been striving for. Moving to London hadn’t been part of the plan but she’d work out the finer details. Plus the added bonus of Mike, someone she knew to help her settle in. And loathe to admit it, she liked the idea of having an escape from Sam and Gabby. Arguably Skylar leaving would make the whole situation easier on Sam too, relieve some of his stress over their dilemma. 

“Um, yes,” said Skylar quietly, shrugging out of his embrace and averting her gaze from Sam. She cleared her throat and spoke louder with more conviction. “Yes! I accept. But I have one condition.” 

“There’s the woman for the job,” Jerry praised. 

“I get to choose my successor,” she advised and without waiting for confirmation her term would be accepted, she walked to stand beside Mason, putting her arm around his shoulders, “Mason gets my current job.” 

Jerry smirked and nodded, “as I suspected. We’ll work out the details Monday.” He confirmed shaking Skylar’s then Mason’s hand congratulating them both. “Excuse us we have a little more mingling to do.” 

Jerry sauntered off with Harvey in toe and Mike quickly turned to Skylar. 

“I gotta go,” Mike told her and was obviously upset at the fact. “Make sure they don’t make any deals they shouldn’t,” he rolled his eyes as if he were used to it. He handed her his phone and she dialled in her number. “Come find me later?” 

Skylar nodded before placing a light kiss on his cheek. “Definitely.” 

Mason had enough self control to wait until they were out of ear shot before he squealed and hugged Skylar tightly. 

“I need some air,” Sam announced. 

Skylar watched from Mason’s embrace as Sam dodged behind people and swiftly disappeared into the crowd. The rest of the group congratulated her and Mason with hugs and well wishes. 

Steve announced they needed champagne to celebrate, but she knew it was more than that when he headed in the same direction Sam had fled. Skylar knew she’d have to talk to Sam sooner rather than later to hash out all the things that had been said with tension filled glares and lingering looks. But first, she’d need a way to occupy Gabby. At least that was the excuse she fed herself when she didn’t immediately follow after Steve. 

Truth be told, she didn’t know if she had the strength for another heartbreaking conversation. She didn’t want to talk about Sam’s pending nuptials of her promotion. Both led to the same conclusion: they were leaving each other behind. 

If she were going to broach the subjects, and inevitably knew she would have to, she needed more champagne. Then she’d go talk to Sam. Maybe if she were buzzed, the alcohol would help numb some of the heartache she knew would only get worse.

-*-*-*-*-*-

##  **Part 3 - 11th March 2020**


	3. Chapter 3

##  **Talking To The Moon - Part 3.**

Sam had been absent for forty minutes and although Skylar didn’t necessarily want to, she needed to find him to talk. But she knew if she announced she was going to look for him, Gabby would want to tag along, because_ god forbid_ he be talking to a celebrity she could be introduced to. Which she’d been adamant was the case for the last five minutes. 

“Mr Rogers,” said Mason smiling brightly after Skylar discreetly asked for his assistance in slipping away. “Would you be able to give us a tour of this spectacular building?” 

“That’s a great idea,” Nat agreed, offering Gabby a hand off the tall bar stool. “You’ll get to see how you’ll be living soon,” she grinned as if the idea excited her. “Skylar care to join us?” 

For a trained assassin Skylar figured Nat would understand the need to be discreet but the smirk she flashed was suggestive and smug. Or perhaps it seemed that way because Skylar understood Nat knew the game Mason was playing. 

“I’m gonna go find Mike,” Skylar declined the offer. “Catch up with him.” 

Steve winked and it was clear he was playing the game too. Again, maybe it was his training, but he jerked his head toward the back of the room and provided the subtle information she’d need. “I think I saw him taking a tour when I came back from the bathroom. Eighty-third floor maybe. I’ll tell security to let you through.”

Skylar smiled and mouthed a ‘thank you’ before Steve followed Nat leading Mason and Gabby in the opposite direction. 

Getting past security and to the eighty-third floor had been easy. Walking through the door to the balcony Sam stood on proved difficult. Thanks to Tony’s preference for glass - she suspected it was more of a vanity thing, he liked people to watch a genius at work - she had an unobstructed view of Sam with his head raised slightly, staring up at the half-moon. 

She took a deep, centering breath and pushed the door open. The sound pulled Sam’s attention from the stars, and he turned with a scowl as if preparing to reprimand whoever had intruded his moment of solitude. 

“Cap I told you I’m…”

The sentence died on his lips, and the scowl lasted milliseconds before it smoothed into an appreciative grin as he raked his eyes up and down her body before landing on her eyes again. 

Skylar chuckled despite her cheerless mood and walked to stand beside him. “That face right there,” her index finger a hair-breadth from his nose, “is the exact same face you had when you saw me on prom night.” 

He laughed and turned back to the moon, heaving a weary sigh. “Can’t imagine tonight is gonna end the same.” 

She couldn’t imagine it either, but what use was it to say it out loud that the one night they’d shared together, that she had had hopes of repeating, was never going to happen because everything had changed? So she didn’t, she stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and took in the breathtaking view of New York. 

The shape of the building allowed her to see the party going on two levels below them and she wondered exactly where Nat and Steve were and how long, feasibly, they could keep Gabby from going in search of Sam. Though, keeping Gabby away would be pointless if neither of them spoke. Which neither of them did for a few minutes, lost in their own heads.

Sam broke the silence. “Ever miss the days we’d talk to the moon for hours?” 

“All the time.” 

“Damn sure was simpler back then.” 

She scoffed. That was the understatement of the century. Life made sense back then. Even though, at the time, she didn’t think there was a possibility their relationship would ever be more than platonic, she accepted it. She had believed her feelings weren’t reciprocated, and it was a hard pill to swallow, but she dealt with it. Having the memory of their encounter, and having Sam in her life - in any capacity - had been enough. 

But now she knew different. Now she understood the feelings she had were shared, that they would have had endless possibilities if they hadn’t wasted so much time, if they both had taken the leap a long time ago. 

“What I wouldn’t give for simple.” The anger bubbled like the champagne she’d been drinking and spilled over the edge of her control. She couldn’t hold her tongue any more. “Congratulations on the engagement by the way.” 

“Congrats on the promotion,” Sam countered with just as much sarcasm and they both turned to glare at each other. 

Her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself down, though she wanted to scream in his face that she’d partly accepted just to get out of his way. To make _his _life easier. But she thought better of it, the last thing they needed to do was have a full blown pissing match in the glassbox for everyone below to see should they choose to pull their heads out of their proteinous asses and look up. 

“I shouldn’t have come up here,” she declared, turning on her heel but not making it a full step before Sam grabbed her arm and stopped her. 

“Please just hear me out,” he pleaded, releasing her arm. “You’ve been duckin’ my calls for days. I just want to talk.” 

“This isn’t the place to do this,” she said, flicking her eyes to the party below. 

“Jarvis, privacy.” 

“Of course, Mr. Wilson.” As the AI replied, the glass around them faded to a darker shade. 

She could still see the moon and party-goers below but they looked as if they had been greyed out. She strolled to the edge to touch the glass and a ripple appeared under her finger as if she’d pressed too hard on a computer screen, but the fogged pane remained. 

“No one can see us, but we can see them.” 

She wasn’t sure if she thought it was a cool trick or if it worried her because now it meant it was just her and Sam. No escape from the pending confrontation. 

“You have to know this isn’t what I want.” 

“What?” she asked, spinning to look at him, the anger still evident in her tone. “The baby or the engagement?” 

“All of it! Including fighting with you.” 

Skylar sighed heavily, surrendering. “I don’t want to fight, either.” 

“So let me explain.” 

“I know how engagements work, Sam, I don’t need a lesson.” 

“You wanna be a smart ass, or you wanna hear the plan?” 

She contemplated the answer for a second but finally gave in. “Natasha’s plan?” 

He nodded and explained, “Nat did some digging and we’re ninety-nine percent sure there is no baby, or if there is, it’s not mine. But we gotta play it close,” he cautioned, moving to stand next to her, “keep Gabby sweet so she doesn’t go running her mouth to the press before we can prove it. Keep the damage minimal or avoid it altogether.” 

Skylar listened to the strategy Natasha had concocted. Gabby was scheduled for a doctor’s appointment in four days. Tony had been kind enough to provide Sam with a list of specialist doctors, and with the guise of Sam not wanting anything but the best for his baby. Gabby had agreed to use them, as she thought it was a sweet gesture. Sam admitted the engagement was his idea, wanting to prove - or rather fake - his loyalty to her. But they would wait a few weeks before announcing it to the world. Maria had been introduced as the Avengers PR officer, and her whole speech on putting Gabby into protective custody had been bullshit. Obviously, security measures were taken to protect family members but they were allowed to go about their lives accordingly. 

“You didn’t choose the life we lead, y’know,” shrugged Sam. “Why should you have to sacrifice the life you’ve built because of my choices?” 

She gave him a small tight smile. What he’d said made sense, but the life she’d built meant nothing if she didn’t have Sam in it. If having him there meant sacrificing any part of it, small or otherwise, she’d have done it in a heartbeat without question. But the one thing she couldn’t bring herself to sacrifice was her unyielding desire to have him all to herself. Maybe she was selfish for not wanting to share him, that her vision of a family was traditional and didn’t involve another woman or a child with Sam’s eyes she couldn’t claim as her own. 

“Are you saying I’ve been followed?” 

Sam chuckled, “There’s been agents on you since you met me in the parking lot.” 

The last few weeks raced through her mind. She felt that wave of anxiety when someone asks if they can talk and every bad thing she’d ever done in her life came to the forefront of her mind, though she knew she’d done nothing wrong. 

He nudged her shoulder with his. “You really think I went off to help Cap and left my girl unprotected?” 

_My girl._

Her anxiety was replaced by heartache in a shuddered breath, and she closed her eyes to stop Sam seeing the longing she knew would be undeniable. She wanted to ask him to stop saying that. She couldn’t be _his girl, _at least notright now. But she feared if she asked him to that he would stop. If he suddenly became formal, well, that would wound her more than hearing_ those _words. 

“So, Gino’s,” started Skylar, finding courage in the bitterness she felt she opened her eyes and turned to gauge his reaction. “I saw the pictures on TMZ.” 

His sigh was laden with regret, and he hung his head to look at his feet. “They called me to confirm my reservation, _our _reservation, when I was with her. She overheard it.” 

“So, I guess you had no choice,” Skylar snarled, resentful and not trying to hide it. “Gotta keep her sweet right?” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “But how _sweet _are you keeping her, Sam? Dinners, lavish parties, the designer dress she’s wearing.” She hated the venom in her voice, the undeniable jealousy, but couldn’t mask it. 

She was pissed and had every right to be. Someone else was living _her _life. The material things Gabby had didn’t matter, it was the man she was sharing the material things with that caused the ire. Worse of all, she was pissed because, when it really came down to it, Sam had done nothing wrong. Skylar was vexed but had no one to be vexed at, no one to take out her anger on. She would take it out on Sam, regardless, because even though he was in part the cause, he was also the person she’d go to when she needed to vent. 

She took a deep breath and silently talked herself down from being a bitch, rationalized that she didn’t want to blame Sam or fight with him. “Have you…” Skylar started but wasn’t sure how to phrase the question or whether she had the right to ask at all. “Are you sleeping with her?” 

He shook his head in denial and stepped to stand in front of her. Dipping to catch her eye, he reached to take her hands that had balled into fists at her sides. “I haven’t slept with her,” he promised, and it wasn’t until she saw the sincerity in his eyes she allowed him to take her hands. “That’s her whole scheme, I think. To get me to sleep with her again to _actually _knock her up!” 

“Urgh,” she sneered, watching him fit his hand to hers, “I don’t need or want the details.” 

“Okay. No more talking,” agreed Sam with a chuckle. “Jarvis, play Wonderful Tonight by Damage.” 

Jarvis didn’t respond but the slow, sweet violins of the song began to play, and Sam’s cunning grin widened, “May I have this dance?” 

“You’re too smooth for your own good, Wilson,” she smirked but stepped closer. 

The balcony offered enough room for them to waltz, if they wished, but Sam led them in a tight square formation. Swaying back and forth, Skylar didn’t quite care it wasn’t an actual dance, she was just happy to be in his arms, listening to their song. Cheek to cheek like they had been many years ago, with her eyes closed, all the other shit faded. For those short three minutes, she’d forget, pretend it was just them. 

The melodic voices of the boyband reached the second bridge, and she felt Sam shift ever so slightly, his mouth resting against her ear, and he sang along in a whisper. He placed a gentle kiss below her ear, another on her jaw, another on her cheek. She held her breath when he pulled back, knowing where he was headed. He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth and lingered longer than the previous kisses. A silent request, one she was more than willing to answer. She tilted her head toward him and captured his mouth. 

The dancing stopped. The song ended, but the kiss continued. Tongues were unhurried but full of urgency, affectionate moans and hums were filled with desire, needy and desperate hands roamed the plains of the other’s body. It wasn’t until her back hit the glass that she realized they’d even been in motion, but the little breath she’d had left was knocked from her lungs. 

Sam pulled away, “Shit, sorry.” 

She was unsure if he were apologizing for the kiss or the hard landing, and being a little light-headed from the lack of air, she couldn’t manage a response. Sam didn’t give her the time to find one. He immediately returned to kiss her neck, allowing her the time to suck in the air she needed. His hand ran up her exposed thigh, into her dress, and gripped her hip, his other doing the same on the other side to give him the leverage to grind against her. 

“You want me to stop?” he asked against her neck. 

_Yes _\- it wouldn’t do either of them any good in the long run. Still, her head tipped back to give him better access, and her hands clawed at his back to hold him against her. 

_No - _it felt too good. It was all she’d thought about for weeks. She tugged her dress up to give her more room to lift her leg to wrap around his waist. 

“Take that as a no,” he snickered as her hands roamed to begin unfastening his belt. 

Sam teased his fingers over the silky fabric of her panties, and she unzipped his fly, when Jarvis’ warning interrupted them. 

“Mr. Wilson, Ms. Romanoff would like you to know she is approaching. 

They parted immediately, fixing themselves back to a presentable state a second before the knock on the glass door. “Put her down, Wilson,” Nat called out jokingly. 

Sam smirked way too smugly when he called back, “She’s down.” 

Nat pushed the door open but only popped her head through the gap. She looked just as smug and self-satisfied as Sam. “Sorry to interrupt, but your absence is becoming noticeable.” 

“Okay, thanks,” said Sam, “We’re right behind you.” 

Nat gave a curt nod, and her smile morphed to mischief when she turned her focus to Skylar, “Told you not to wear any panties, would’ve been so much easier.” 

“That’s not what we were…” Skylar started but Sam’s boisterous laughter interrupted. “Shut up, both of you.” 

Natasha laughed, reminded them to hurry it up, and disappeared again. 

Sam cut off his laughter and fixed a serious stare on Skylar. “Can we meet Thursday? Like usual? Hopefully, by then, all this will be over.” 

She stepped to him and kissed his cheek. “I really hope it’s that simple.” Her smile was half-hearted. 

Sam squeezed her hand before he jogged away to catch up with Nat. Skylar waited a moment, not only to give them time to rejoin the party, but also to take the time to do something she hadn’t done for years. She sent a silent prayer to the moon, or whoever else may have been listening, _‘Please, let it be simple.’_

The star nearest the moon flickered as if acknowledging her wish. 

* * *

** _Wednesday March 5th 2014._ **

Nerves and excitement made Sam jog up the path to Gabby’s door. He was excited that today could be the end of the whole fiasco, but nervous that it could potentially be the start of a lifetime of fiascos. 

He was no stranger to trouble, his professional life regularly made him seek it. He could deal with chaos, but when it came to his personal life, he much preferred to be a lover and not a fighter. If today didn’t go the way he hoped, if Gabby was indeed pregnant, he’d spend the rest of his life drowning his feelings for Skylar. 

Of course, he would do the right thing, try to keep his distance. He was a strong man in every sense of the word, but Skylar was like an Ocean - unexplored, hypnotic, limitless and immovable from his life. Without a doubt, he’d succumb to his feelings, no matter how hard he’d try to stay afloat. Sooner rather than later, he’d get tired of swimming away. His lungs wouldn’t be able to take it, and he’d have to breathe her in. 

Sam knew he’d tell lies, painted truths to whoever he had to to keep Skylar close to him. He’d drown in the ocean of her regardless of the consequences. 

He took a deep, calming breath, one of many he knew he’d be taking today, and knocked loudly on the door. It took longer than expected for her to answer, and he was ready to knock again when she finally appeared. 

Sam’s fake smile faltered taking in her appearance; baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt two sizes too big, her hair askew like she’d been lying on it only moments ago, no make up. He bit down the urge to be angry. They were expected at the doctor’s appointment in an hour, she should have been ready to go. They’d never make it across town in time now. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gabby sighed before Sam could talk. “I feel awful.” 

She pouted as Sam stepped through the door. She dragged her feet as she ambled back into the living room, and Sam followed chewing on his cheek. 

“Morning sickness does not just happen in the morning, let me tell you.” 

Sam had to admit it was a pretty convincing scene. Her duvet bunched up on the sofa, a plastic bucket beside it, a half glass of water on the coffee table, the smell of disinfectant as if she’d tried to mask the smell of vomit. 

She turned to sit on the arm of the sofa and smiled innocently, “I’m really sorry, but I don’t feel up to going to the docs.” 

He nodded and gave as a genuine smile as he could muster. Her smile quickly changed to flirtatious, and she reached out to grab his jacket and pull him toward her. He allowed her, only half resisting, and she looked up at him from under her lashes. 

“You know, I’ve read there’s a cure for morning sickness.” Her tongue rested on her bottom lip, and Sam remembered her doing the same thing during one of their previous encounters. At the time, he’d thought it was sexy, and he’d reached out to bite it, but now it just annoyed him further. He couldn’t find it in himself to be sympathetic. This was just another game she was playing. Another ploy to try to get him into bed. 

“Let me go make some calls,” he sighed, unable to keep the disappointment from his tone, “see if we can reschedule.” 

* * *

Gabby chuckled at Ross Gellar’s leather pants mishap, but Sam’s grin was more of a grimace. It was the last place he wanted to be. However, he’d called Natasha and explained the situation. This wasn’t part of the plan, what the fuck was he supposed to do now? She told him to hang tight, so he followed orders and stayed. 

Why had he ever thought it would be simple? That Gabby would be proved a liar and he’d be able to go get his girl? Nothing had been easy lately, so why had he expected anything different? 

He’d fought off Gabby’s advances by _again _telling her he thought it was super weird to sleep with a pregnant woman. (It was complete bullshit, he couldn’t think of anything sexier than seeing his partner carrying his child and helping sate her needs, whatever they may be), and eventually, she’d backed off. 

According to Gabby, she hadn’t been able to keep down even a small sip of water, yet she hadn’t been sick in the hour and a half Sam had been there. 

“You want me to make you some toast?” Sam asked rubbing her leg affectionately. “It’s been a while since you’ve been sick, maybe you’re past the worst of it.” 

He got up before she could respond, he just needed a reason to get her feet out of his lap when she started not so subtly rubbing them against his crotch. Even if he had wanted to sleep with her, that was a sure-fire way to turn him off. Feet were a non-starter for him because…_feet_. 

He’d just made it into the kitchen when the doorbell rang, and he prayed it wasn’t one of her family members or a friend because he really didn’t have the stomach for it today. 

He fished his phone from his pocket ready to call Nat and ask _why _he was hanging tight, when Gabby whined his name loudly, and he could hear the childlike pout she wore. 

He raced to the hallway as if concerned and skidded to a stop. He’d never been so happy to see people in white lab coats in his life. Maria had pulled Gabby to the side as men and women traipsed in and out carrying expensive looking equipment and bags. 

“You’re still here, good,” Maria remarked, giving him a tight but friendly smile. “I was just explaining to Gabriella that we brought the doctors to you. The matter is not one we can put off, as we need to make appropriate arrangements. We have safety measures and protocols we need to follow.” 

Sam smirked, and in his head, he was kissing Natasha’s and Maria’s feet repeatedly. Foot phobia or not, he’d kiss their feet until the end of time if they asked. 

Maria turned back to the scowling woman before her. “I know this might be a little overwhelming but I need you to understand this is for your safety and the baby.” 

Maria continued to explain what would happen, reiterating Gabby was in control, her needs came first. She escorted her into the living room, as if it wasn’t her home, and explained in turn how each piece of equipment worked and what it was for. Even Sam became somewhat overwhelmed, Maria explained one machine and another three had materialized. The buzz from the machines as they were fired up sounded like locusts and the faceless people in white coats murmured amongst themselves. 

“Okay, okay. ENOUGH!” Gabby shouted and everyone froze. 

Sam held his breath. Was this it? Was she finally going to confess to the whole thing being bullshit? Did she finally see she was in too deep and the lie couldn’t go any further? 

He pushed his feet forward, stood by her with an assuring arm around her shoulders, “You okay, baby?” he asked quietly as if he wanted the moment to be private. “You feel sick again?” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Maria, “This must be so overwhelming, do you need a minute?” 

Gabby began to tremble under his arm, and for a split second, he felt sorry for her, until she blurted out, “I lied!” 

The confession seemed to be a signal to the white coats, and they immediately began packing up the equipment. Gabby shrugged herself out from under Sam’s arm and sat on the sofa covering her face with her hands. 

Maria squeezed Sam’s shoulder and smiled with a quick wink before she called out for the agents to pack it up and be on the road in ten. 

Gabby burst into tears, shoulders shaking as she sobbed into her hands. Sam didn’t know why, but he sat beside her and rubbed soothing circles on her back. He should have been pissed and somewhere deep down he was, but he pitied her more than anything. She had to have some deep-seated issues to do what she had. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried and turned to bury her head in his neck. “I’m sorry Sam, it’s all a lie. I was never pregnant.” 

“I just need to know why.” Maybe that’s why he’d stuck around and not bolted for the door the second she told him what he wanted to hear. He wanted to know why. He had his suspicions - that she wanted fame and fortune, to make a name for herself - but he wanted to know for sure, sate his own curiosity. 

She sniffed back a sob, rubbed at her snotty nose with the back of her hand, and sat up straighter to look him in the eye. “I did have a scare, after I cancelled our fourth date. I thought I was, I did a home test and it was positive. I built this fantasy in my head about us being a family. Then I saw you on the news. I went to the doctor and it turned out the home tests I’d done were a false positive. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About _us_. I wanted another chance. Then I saw Skylar in the bar…” she paused to wipe her nose. 

Sam gritted his teeth, felt his jaw flex. He hated the way she said it, a hint of disgust as if Skylar was a problem. She didn’t have the right to speak her name in that way. 

“I knew from the panic in her eyes when she saw me that you two were more than friends,” she sighed sadly. “And I knew if I didn’t give you a reason you’d never call me back so I lied. Can you forgive me?” 

“I forgive you,” he told her truthfully. He wouldn’t hold a grudge, there was no need to hold onto the negativity. He pulled her into him and kissed her temple. “I hope you find someone to have a family with, but it isn’t me.” 

She sobbed harder, clung to him to hold him in place. He untangled himself from her embrace to stand up and walked away with her calling his name and pleading with him to come back. 

* * *

**_Thursday March 6th 2014._**

Agreeing to meet Sam at their usual spot, regardless of what happened with Gabby, had been a mistake. Skylar had spent two days on tenterhooks. Wednesday, the day she knew Sam was taking Gabby to the doctors appointment, she spent the day jumping every time her phone went off, her heart stopped every time her office door opened. By the time she crawled into bed at midnight the little hope she held that the saga would come to an end diminished and was replaced by a chest crushing despair with the understanding that she had well and truly lost Sam forever. She’d cried herself to sleep after convincing herself that no news in fact meant bad news. 

Skylar had specifically asked Sam to wait until their regular meet up, whether it be good or bad news. If it was bad news they could pretend nothing had happened between them, toast to Riley and act as if they weren’t pining for each other. That would be easier, go back to how they used to be. But if it was good news, Sam being Sam, she thought he wouldn’t have been able to hold back. She’d had vivid visions of him bursting into her office and kissing her. Showing up on her doorstep and taking her directly to bed. However, he had done as she asked which could mean only one thing. Bad news. 

She woke at three Thursday morning, washed her tear stained, puffy face, and told herself she was done crying. No more tears. She had to be strong and selfless and be there for Sam. After all, becoming a father was a huge deal. She vowed to make an effort with Gabby, even try to be her friend, at least until she left for London. 

The working day rushed by - meetings, conference calls, and bitching to Mason on a two hour lunch break she probably shouldn’t have taken. But, sleep-deprived, heartbroken, and miserable, she forced herself out of the cab onto the sidewalk. 

The queue was twenty or so people deep, and she hung her head as she passed the main door in the hope she could sneak past the doormen. She was already late, thirty-five minutes to be exact, but that was nothing new, Sam would expect it. An extra ten minutes in the queue would give her more time to get her shit together and help put off the inevitable just a little longer. 

“Skylar,” Henry called out in his happier than happy tone. 

She froze and cursed under her breath. Damn Henry and his friendly nature. She plastered on a happy smile and he mirrored it as he engulfed her in a tight embrace. The friendly greeting wasn’t unexpected but he whispered, “Come with me,” and she understood the hug was more about being discreet than friendly. 

He led her down the alleyway between the bar and the neighbouring building, and when they were far enough away from the crowd, he explained, “Sam’s been here about an hour. We snuck him in and put him in the VIP area in the back.” 

It was a nice gesture. They’d been Thursday night regulars for almost four years now, and Sam’s new Falcon status had earned the bar a ton of new customers and it’s new nickname, ‘Falcon’s Nest’. So Sam getting the perks of VIP - private area, free drinks, and table service - wouldn’t hurt the bar’s reputation or pockets.

The VIP had its own side entrance, though Skylar wasn’t quite sure why. The tables were on a raised platform to the left of the main bar and could be accessed from the main room. Security stood on either side of the staircase to stop any non-important guests from entering. 

Sam was at the table furthest from the side door and far enough back that any prying eyes from the main bar would have a hard time seeing him. He was staring into the swirling amber liquid in his crystal tumbler. Her drink sat waiting across the table from him.

His face was unreadable, a flat emotionless mask, and that scared her. He always had a slight smirk, like he knew a delicious secret, or his brow crinkled with tough thoughts, but his dark brown eyes always held a spark of life. But he was expressionless, and in that veil lay heartache. 

She shrugged out of her jacket as she approached and flung it on the back of the chair, apologising for being late, though for her she was practically on time. “I’m late, I know, I know.” 

She dipped to kiss his cheek quickly and took her seat without meeting his eyes, though she wasn’t sure he’d even looked up from his drink. 

“How many times did you think about cancelling?” he asked. 

She tried but failed to sound humorous, “Oh, only a couple hundred.” 

He raised his glass and met her eyes with the faintest smile she’d ever seen on him. “Riley.” 

She echoed the toast, and they clinked their glasses before shooting it back. She swallowed it down, and for once she enjoyed the burn. It somehow served as a reminder of the fire inside her. The desire she felt for Sam couldn’t be doused, and any pretences of acting normal burnt to embers that she coughed out as the alcohol hit her stomach. 

She chewed her bottom lip and forced herself to look him in the eye, “Should we toast your engagement?” 

His smile spread wide and fast, one eyebrow pulled up slightly, “Not unless you’re proposing?” 

He stared at her, grinning like an idiot. She gaped back at him, and it took half a minute for it to register that the snarky remark was also an announcement. 

“You gonna kiss me or keep staring like you-” 

Skylar leapt from her seat and crashed into him, cutting off his jesting with a forceful kiss. The chair rocked back, but Sam kept them upright, and she settled into his lap. One arm wrapped around her waist, he pulled her into him. The other hand rested on the top of her thigh, and his fingers squeezed tighter than was necessary. 

She hummed happily into his mouth. Her hands slipped from his face, and her nails dug into his shoulder blades. He tasted like whiskey. His hand squeezing her thigh was definitely going to make her burst into flames. His spicy cologne overwhelmed her, and the arm that wrapped around her waist and drew her into him made it feel like she was finally home. 

She felt the hot happy tears well under her closed eyes and couldn’t stop them falling. A single tear crushed between their lips and Sam pulled back. Thumbing away another rogue tear he smiled softly, “No more of these.” 

“I need a minute,” she laughed, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. Her rational thinking returned, and she gasped, looking guiltily at Sam, “Shit, London.” 

“Baby girl, you forgot I have _actual _wings?” he chuckled, and she laughed with him but still looked concerned. “I already spoke to Mason. He told me it’s only six months out of the year. So we can split our time between London and here, and when I’m working we can talk to the moon like we used to.” 

She kissed him softly but with just as much passion. Before it could become heated again, she pulled back. “Then I just have one question.” He nodded for her to continue. “Why the hell are we meetin’ here and not somewhere with less people?” 

He laughed heartily, “Well, I wanted to make sure this place only had good memories for us. And _unfortunately_,” he rolled his eyes like it was the most inconvenient thing to have happened lately, “we have a few people who wanted to celebrate with us and who we kinda owe a thank you to.” 

He pointed over her shoulder, and Skylar turned to see Steve, Nat, and Mason over on the far side of the room, talking amongst themselves and badly acting as if they hadn’t just been staring at them. She’d been so focused on Sam, she hadn’t noticed them. 

She had never wanted to share Sam, her traditional family view prohibited her from being able to. But as she watched their friends, she realized that view had forever changed. Their newfound family was far from traditional, and she was more than happy to share him with them. 

She smirked and quickly kissed his lips, “Could we not’ve thanked them tomorrow?” 

“I promise, as soon we can politely escape,” Sam whispered in her ear, “I’m taking my girl home to finish what we started on that balcony and to make up for lost time.” 

He waved to beckon the group over. Quickly kissing her lips, he reminded her of the promise he’d made what felt like a lifetime ago, “Whiskey and frisky.” 

She laughed loudly when he did the eyebrow waggle she’d envisioned him doing when she had read the message. Skylar cupped his face and pulled him to her, “I love you,” she whispered against his lips. 

“I love you, too.” 

Their lingering kiss was interrupted by Nat’s jesting voice as she got closer. “Jeez, how many times,” she sighed dramatically. “Put her _down_, Wilson,” she winked. 

Sam squeezed Skylar’s thigh and whispered, “Never.” A promise to never let her go now he had her, and she promised to hold him just as tightly with a firm kiss pressed against his lips. 

Skylar’s hand caressed his cheek, the pad of her thumb stroked back and forth over the scar under his left eye, and when she pulled back, she got lost in his adoring gaze. 

The hairs on her arms and neck stood on end as if she’d been hit by a blast of cold air. Thoughts of the future and the promise it held gave her goosebumps. But what she wanted was the ultimate promise, a vow of forever. No matter what else tomorrow held, it would hold Sam. _She _would hold Sam, tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. She couldn’t imagine a life without him. She didn’t want to. And perhaps, she didn’t have to. 

The words bubbled up, out of her burgeoning heart, getting caught in her throat for only a moment as she took in the contentment on Sam’s face. They were soft, but that was okay because the bar seemed to fade around them, its noise a distant throb in time with her heart - quiet enough, surely, for Sam to hear her: **“Marry me?”**


End file.
